


Sensory Deprication

by scifichicx



Series: Tommy Diaries [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Bisexuality, Drug Use, F/M, M/M, Multi, OT3, POV Male Character, Polyamory, drugged consent, under age drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifichicx/pseuds/scifichicx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My name is Tommy Merlyn and if you are interested I'll give you all the dirty details of my relationships with Oliver Queen and Laurel Lance. </p>
<p>This bit is about the first time Ollie and I ever fooled around, back when we were 20.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sensory Deprication

**Author's Note:**

> There are tense changes and strange grammatical structure in this. The aim was to use that as a vehicle for conveying Tommy's voice and hopefully his writing style. I dearly hope it doesn't shake anyone out of the piece.

I think- no, actually I admit it; I live my life in sensations.

My first kiss: Clumsy, terrifying, thrilling.

First time I drove a car: Choppy, stupid, hilarious.

First time I had sex: Awkward, gentle, and er… quick.

I was sixteen, give me a break.

There are good sensations and bad ones. Getting drunk is good- the hangover not so much. Sometimes it’s all of one- like the utter crushing horror of my dad finding my stash of drugs. Sometimes it’s a mix of both. Laurel for example; the first time I saw her I swear I felt my heart fall into my shoe. She was beautiful and shining. Then Ollie came over and put his arm around her. The heart in my shoe turned into liquid and I smiled it away.

I could write a book on the full library of sensations I have experienced thanks to Oliver and Laurel. I’m going to do my best to avoid that here. For our purposes- since you are probably interested- let’s go with the dirty ones.

Let me set this up for you. I was seventeen when I realized I was bisexual and I was nearly twenty the first time I told anyone. That anyone was Ollie and I still remember the way my head swam and my chest filled with hot panic the second the secret was out. I wanted to grab the confession, swallow it, and pretend like it never happened. But then he asked me some questions and I was honest, told him, yes, I would be interested in him if he were interested, but he wasn’t so it was fine.

The first party we went to after that, we got ridiculously drunk (you’ll find that a common thread in my stories with Ollie) and he called me over and told me to kiss him. I was floored. So I leaned over-

And he started laughing. He drunk giggled his way off the sofa and to the fancy wood floor. This was not the first or last time Oliver Queen humiliated me, but it was one of the ones that stung the most.

Cut to three months later. Ollie is now freshly nineteen and on a momentary dry spell. We’re at a party and Oliver gets some E as a late birthday present.

Cut to a half hour later, when we’re in a bedroom and Ollie is telling me that there’s no other guy he would do this with and his hands are _shaking_ as they push up under my shirt.

Oh, right, this is the good part. I shouldn’t just rush through it.

But it was a rush. The short walk into that bedroom was a dazed flurry of his eager, curious hands, and my delirious, desperate _need._ When you’re on E, it feels like the doors and windows of your soul get thrown open and you look around and suddenly experience the sensation of profound connection with those around you. So, doing that next to the best friend you’ve had the hots for since you’ve had hots and seeing him look at you like you are some gorgeous, ethereal thing- Jesus, even now, the memory of that look in his eyes gives me goose bumps.

We get into the bedroom and I suddenly realized that we’re in the place where people our age disappear to for sex. I have about a half second to contemplate that before Oliver had his hands on my hips and he’s walking me back to the bed. He kept watching his hands touch me. It’s interesting; it wasn’t really groping, just curious, persistent little touches all over my arms, chest, back, hips…

     “You feel nice,” Ollie murmured. He had a lazy smile on his lips and something way too tender in his eyes. His hand slid up my arm, to my neck and his fingertips rubbed the base of my scalp. He pulled me in and kissed me. (Still gives me goose bumps. Damn it, Oliver.) It was a soft kiss and sweet- which lasted about as long as it took for me to realize that holy God, Ollie was kissing me and it was real and he was pulling my shirt out of my jeans-

Deep breath, Tommy.

So, we get to the bed and somehow I have rolled on top of him. His legs are sprawled open and when he pulls me down I feel him hard and it makes fireworks go off from my thighs to my armpits.

Side note: Oliver Queen in pleasure makes the most in-fucking-credible noises known to man.

Anyway, we’re kissing, grinding, I honestly do not remember how our shirts got off and then I start to kiss his neck and he just starts talking. “Jesus, Tommy, that feels fucking good. You’re good. Just you. Wouldn’t let another guy do this.” I moan and bite at his shoulder a little. Then he goes, “Fuck. Oh. What’s wrong with me?”

I stop for a second. (Almost typed sexond. Hmm.) I look up at Ollie and he blinks- blank-faced- looking back at me. “What?” he asks.

“What’s wrong with you?” I reply, ready to quit if he wants to quit, but praying to every God that has ever been worshiped that he doesn’t want to quit.

“Huh?” He blinks again, thinks, and then smiles, “Oh, yeah, what the hell is wrong with me that I didn’t go for this sooner.”

I still contemplate his use of “I” instead of “we” but you’ll find that I am a connoisseur of over thinking things. Then again I think it was Oliver that gave me that complex.

Whatever, it was a good enough reply for me and so I start kissing his chest. He’s a not-quite grown man who has been in bedrooms at parties before, so he already knew where this was going. I felt the tension drain out of his limbs and then his hands settled on my head. Fuck- that is basically the green light and I was so fucking ready to do this I thought I was going to spontaneously combust.

Is it strange that I still very clearly remember the sensation of popping the button of his jeans open? It was like a champagne cork, for very fancy expensive champagne. Obviously it didn’t sound like that- but it felt like that to me, in my mind. I pulled down the zipper and he lifted up so I could pull his jeans and boxers down to his knees. My hand was on his dick instantly. I watched him lean his head back and make a little “ooh” sound. He gave my head a nudge and I remember smiling as I ducked down and licked a solid line up his hard-on.

There began the best of Ollie’s really-great-sounds.

I held on to the base of it and started sucking. Then I situated between his legs, propped on my elbows and felt like the king of every universe because my best friend’s dick was in my mouth and it was glorious. My lips and tongue polished every contour and straining ridge. I sucked and tasted him, salty and slippery.

“Play with my balls,” Ollie breathed.

I remember thinking, “ _fuck, he’s already close_.”

I cupped his heavy sack, squeezing gently and rubbing, feeling the balls shift in my grip. Then he was breathing out “ah-aaah-oh.” He started to thrust up and hold my head. Yeah, I guess I should be offended or something but it was hot and I liked it. I moved a hand to his hip, stroking my thumb over his hipbone- which might be code for “I know you’re about to jizz in my mouth and I’m fine with that” cause that’s what I meant by it. His body went rigid and he sort of gasped and hissed.

I’m not going to talk about the taste- I don’t want to ruin the mood. But have you ever been body surfing and had a gulp of ocean water just- you know what? Never mind.

I ignored it and focused on the way his muscles strained and his dick twitched in my mouth with every shot of cum. He collapsed under me and I kissed my way back up his body, feeling giddy and dizzyingly hard all at once. He moved just enough to kiss me on the lips and then flopped back, still catching his breath. I assumed that he was over and done, so I kissed along his neck while I fumbled my dick out and started jerking off. His hand bumped against mine and then he was touching me. I went still, blindsided by the potency of that simple contact. He shooed my hand away and took over. I choked on a gasp and my entire body shook like I was about to pass out.

“Do you want me to do it to you?” He asked.

“Yes. But you don’t have to.” I told him.

“Kinda hard to move,” he purred with a lascivious grin.

“Guess that’s my fault, huh?” His grin was contagious. I kissed him again, then whimpered. I am not ashamed that I whimpered either, because his thumb rubbed over the head of my dick just right.

“Completely,” he replied. “Good fault.” He took a deep breath and suddenly flipped me onto my back. I gasped, eyes wide, as he kissed my neck, and then started playing with my nipple. No, guys don’t need them, but I am fucking grateful for them. He licked, sucked, bit, sucked- and I fucking lost it. I came so hard I felt dizzy. We curled up together as the haze passed and thankfully woke up before anyone found us.

Oliver woke up first. When I came to, he was dressed and sitting on the bed, looking out the window at what was probably pre-dawn light. I reached over and rubbed his back and he jumped a little, then looked back at me. He was guarded, but apologetic. “We got up to some shit, didn’t we?”

I nodded and tried to fight off all the worst-case-senario thoughts hitting me all at once.

“You remember?” He asked me.

I contemplated lying, but thought better of it. “I do, yeah. You?”

He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Yeah.” Then, “Tommy- I don’t do that kinda thing.”

I nodded again. Then he must have really looked at the panic on my face, cause he changed gears. He sighed and then leaned over and gave me a little kiss on the forehead. I didn’t know what to say or do, but then he got up and cracked his back. “We should get home. Hope our parents don’t kill us.”

And that was that. I got dressed, he drove us home and we pretended like it never happened.

But it did happen.

And I remembered it.

 


End file.
